by F. G. Adams
His gaze darkens with a promise of retribution as he waits for a response.
“I…I…miss—”
His index finger lands softly on my lips.
“Hush, my darling. I know you’re overjoyed to be at my side again.”
Hot tears spill onto my cheek, but I don’t make a sound, afraid of the repercussions.
Roman gestures with his right hand. Promptly, my upper arms are restrained from motion, a wall of flesh and bones secures me. Anger streams from him. Hot. Cold. It’s difficult to keep up with his mood swings.
“Hmm. How’s my precious daughter Harper? I foresee a happy family reunion in the near future. I’ve made arrangements for her to attend our blessed event. She will be at the wedding.”
I implode in denial, thrashing and kicking. Pain forgotten. The only thing that matters to me is keeping him away from Harper, a momma bear protecting her cub.
“Over my dead body!” I scream, desperate to stop him at all costs.
He nods and I’m released, almost falling to the ground.
I quickly find my balance. Adrenaline pumps through my body. I dig deep inside for strength and run full-speed at him. Ready to fight for my life. My fingernails graze the smirk plastered on his face, a swell of crimson appears.
“Bleed, you sick bastard.”
I’m stopped when Roman forces my hands down to his side. He body slams me into his chest, a chain of human flesh binding me to him. My hand brushes solid steel. A weapon.
This is my chance.
I wrap my arms around him and bury my throbbing face in his chest, faking complacency.
“There, there love. Everything’s going to be okay. We’re family, and family takes care of their own.”
His palm sweeps up and down my spine, gently soothing me. Then he grabs the nape of my neck firmly and squeezes, sending a lightning rod of pain down my spine.
“I would have waited until she was old enough. Allowed you to raise her before expecting you to take your place in the family, but you let him touch you.”
His grip hardens more. I have to do something before he hurts me or I pass out from the mounting pain. I bring my arms around him and hug.
“I’m sorry, Roman. Please forgive me,” I plead and massage the rigid muscles in his back.
He stiffens at first then relaxes and nuzzles my wind-blown hair, placing kisses down my neck. I angle my head for him. My hands are frigid and shaking. I’m unsure whether it’s the cold weather or shock. The sun has passed over the mountain and the temperature drops fast.
I manage to wrap my hand around the handle of the gun and release the clasp holding it in place. I ignore the feel of his wet tongue. Slowly, without shifting or tensing a muscle, I remove the gun from the holster. Thank you, God! I’m in the clear.
Roman’s grip lessens. He lowers to kiss me. Reflexes kick in and I turn away. He releases me with a tiny shove.
Praying for a miracle, I over-exaggerate his strength and stumble backwards, covering the piece.
The familiar weight of the gun bolsters my confidence. I’m a damn good shot. He will die before ever touching a hair on the head of my beautiful, sweet daughter.
I fall hard onto my knees, choosing to conceal the weapon. The impact sends waves of nausea up my throat. I quickly inhale fresh air and pray for the courage to see my plan through. Freedom for both of us.
“Enough of the pleasantries for now, my darling. Hogan, grab her, and let’s get out of this Godforsaken place and back to civilization.”
Roman turns away, none the wiser I have his weapon.
God, please give me strength.
I immediately roll toward the trunk of a large oak, releasing the safety. Hogan pursues me. Before he reaches me, I raise the gun and aim. My bullet hits Hogan in the knee cap. He goes down instantly and grabs his wounded leg. His other hand moves to his back for his gun. I shoot his upper arm, stopping the progress.
Movement catches my eye, and I swing the weapon and aim at the advancing Roman. My insides scream from moving so quickly. The pain worsens by the second.
“Don’t come any closer, Roman. I’ll shoot you. I’m not bluffing,” I threaten with resolve and determination lacing my voice.
I wince from the agony it causes to breathe. I struggle to stand up and still keep the gun drawn. I use my left arm as support. My entire body feels like Jell-O.
He abruptly stops. His eyes flare dark and insolent, a glowering mask of rage. He blinks several times, and a blank expression appears.
“I knew you were a worthy spouse for a Cabricci. Your ingenuity excites me, Fallyn. My own personal ball of fire to mold and control,” he exclaims triumphantly.
Roman walks a few steps toward me, reeking of confidence.
“Don’t!” I aim, my pulse pounding with fear, and hit the ground directly in front of him. Dust and dirt spray over the shiny, black boots. He waivers only a moment, pleased by my aggressiveness.
“You won’t. You can’t do it. You love me, my darling. Remember, we are meant for each other. Soul mates,” he affectionately declares, taking another step in my direction.
With a trembling hand, I aim for a direct hit. I’m aware the closer he comes, the less chance I have of surviving. The notion of killing another human being sickens me. It goes against my grain.
“Please,” I beg, clenching my jaw to kill the sob in my throat.
With a plastered smile, he purposely inches one foot in front of the other in my direction and stops when the barrel of the gun bumps his chest. My hand quivers.
My mind is made up. Roman has plagued me for the last time. His stronghold over me ends today. Roman’s arms reach for me.
I squeeze the trigger, releasing three bullets that find their mark in the center of his psychotic, fucked-up, black heart.
One for Grandma, the years of carrying the burden forced by the Cabricci family because of true love;
One for Harper, the loss of innocence and years of a childhood spent on the run.
One for me, my smoldering hatred and fear of ‘what ifs’ caused by Roman’s crazy need for revenge and twisted domination of my life.
Roman staggers back, clasping the front of his chest. His eyes rounded and full of disbelief.
“You…you…shot me,” he mumbles and falls limply to the ground.
Moments later, I’m surrounded by men in camouflage, concern etched on their painted faces. Oliver separates from the group and hurries to stand in my line of sight. I only see him. Resting his palms on his knees, he bends down to eye-level and captures my watery gaze. There’re so many unspoken words passing between us.
“It’s over. He’s gone,” I sob.
“Hey, there, Fallyn,” he gruffly whispers, “Need ya to put the gun down, baby. Can ya do that for me?”
I gaze into his worried eyes then look at the weapon in my hands. It hadn’t dawned on me I still had the gun drawn and ready to fire. I take my finger off the trigger, slide the safety into place, and gently put it on the ground. I collapse, hysterically sobbing.
Instantly, Oliver’s warm arms scoop me up from the damp, cold ground and secure me on his lap. He rocks me back and forth, comforting me.
“I killed him. I really killed him, Ollie.”
He nods in confirmation.
For the second time in my life, Roman Cabricci has stolen my innocence.
“What have I done? They’re never going to leave me alone,” I whimper and yield to my shocked body’s calling.
24
Oliver
You know that moment when your life flashes before your eyes and death is on your doorstep?
No matter how you maneuver on the path, left or right, take the higher road, or stop when traffic is coming, the result remains the same. In the blink of an eye, everything can change.
Leaning over the porch railing of the cabin, I lose my lunch into the bushes. Chucking up my guts over and over as my stomach churns an angry acrobatic routine. The sharp, stabbing pain in my c
hest digs in like a knife, cutting deep. Neither will let up.
This can’t be happening. Not again. I’m in the twilight zone, caught in a web of unreality. Reliving the loss of someone I love all over again.
Moments ago, my world turned upside down when I discovered Fallyn missing. I completely lost all sense of reason. I completely lost my shit.
“What the fuck happened, Ollie? You were supposed to be watching her twenty-four seven.”
A growling Keagan hauls his large frame quickly up the stairs onto the porch and gets in my face. His expression reads revenge and hatred. I’m fucked.
A leftover dribble from spewing my lunch is stuck to my chin. Keagan backs up and throws a towel in my face.
“Wipe that shit off, Bishop. Motherfucker, pull your head out of your ass. If we don’t find her—” Keagan shouts then roots in his spot, stilling, when I return the favor by advancing into his personal space.
“NO! Don’t say it, K. Don’t even think it!” I shout at him as I grip his shirt between my clinched fists. “You don’t fuckin’ say it, Keagan!”
My eyes are sensitive, feel as if they’re popping out of my skull, while the veins in my neck pulse frantically along with my pounding heart and head. Any moment, The Hulk will emerge, crashing out of my skin from the rage building inside of me.
Flashes of uncertainty and understanding cloud Keagan’s expression as his phone rings inside his pocket. He fishes it out with my hands still cinched up in his shirt.
“Go ahead. What the fuck? Where? How did…? Fuck! We’ll talk when this is over, Shannon.”
Keagan clicks the button, turning off the phone. A dark red hue has taken over his face and bald head.
“We have to act fast, brother. Ya with me? Ollie, I need you with me now!” His voice escalates as his temper flares.
“Where is she?” I calmly ask, dropping my hands as the hazy madness I felt a few seconds ago is lifted away. Concern and fear for Fallyn replace my mood.
“She’s near the river. Fuckin’ Cabricci has her.”
We hit the steps in a sprint, battle mode seizing our bodies as we bolt to the tree line. Moose and California are waiting, handing us tactical gear, guns, and ammo. We suit up quickly, guns locked and loaded.
War is here, and at this very moment, Fallyn’s caught in the crossfire.
At a fast pace, I lead the team through the woods. I don’t give a fuck if I’m quiet; I have to get to Fallyn before something happens to her. I promised her she was safe. I promised Harper nothing would happen to her mom. Fuck!
“The river is fifty yards straight ahead. Moose, Cal, fan out in opposite directions and meet us at the river,” I order both men, and they take off at full speed to the designated areas. “Let’s go get my Vixen, K. Can’t lose her.”
“Not today, brother. Right behind ya,” he replies.
Keagan’s unspoken pledge resonates in my turbulent mind. We will save Fallyn or die trying.
The roaring and churning of the river’s music filters through the trees, filling our ears, and the opening is in front of us. Shots ring out, and my whole world tilts on its axis. We’re too late.
Automatically, my feet hijack control seeking out the river. Seeking out Fallyn.
When I make it to the area where the shots were fired, my chest is overtaxed, my breathing erratic, and I examine my surroundings.
My heart stops when my eyes land on a transfixed Fallyn, gun clutched in her small hands, the firearm pointed at Roman Cabricci’s motionless form sprawled out on the ground. Blood is flowing from three precise bullet holes, spewing red fluid from his chest. The plasma dripping down each side of his upper body, puddling below onto the dirt and debris.
Time slows along with my heart. As if I’ve been possessed by an unseen power, a magnetic force so strong it seduces me. Moments later, when I’m able to breathe, I discover I’m right in front of Fallyn. Her gun is locked onto the target, her eyes glazed from the traumatic experience.
Her face is pale, intense emotions wreaking havoc on her expression as her eyes dart around the area. She doesn’t see me as I witness a multitude of emotions simmering off her torrid face. Horror, pain, satisfaction, doubt, and relief.
Fallyn’s body is shaking, an unmistakable sign of a person going into shock. Yet her petite shoulders are pulled back and her chin is up, conveying confidence while standing her ground. My warrior princess.
Her posture transforms when I move into her line of sight.
“It’s over. He’s gone,” Fallyn announces on a broken whimper.
“Hey, there, Fallyn,” I reply gravely. “Need ya to put the gun down, baby. Can ya do that for me?”
Recognition flares in her fixed stare, and she lowers the gun, clicks the safety on, and places the gun gently on the sedimentary crushed leaves on the shoreline.
At the same time, she drops the rest of the way onto the soggy ground. I propel the gun away with my booted foot, sending it surging over to the underbrush several feet away.
Following Fallyn down to the crunching leaves beneath me, I pull her onto my lap, rocking her back and forth. Attempting to soothe her from the anguish of what’s transpired this afternoon.
“I killed him. I really killed him, Ollie. What have I done?”
A distraught Fallyn shudders on my thighs. The bleakness that stares back at me in the depths of her war-torn eyes elicits me to action.
“S’okay, baby. Shh. I’m here,” I say.
I stroke her hair and rub her shoulders, hoping to alleviate her sadness. Fallyn’s sobs increase and echo around the area.
“You’re safe, baby. Shh. It’s over. You’re safe,” I continue with my reverent promise over and again, but she doesn’t wake up from the hysteria torturing her. Fallyn’s mind is locked on a loop.
My words only produce more crying, which does not help the crisis she’s spiraling into. Fallyn’s trembling limbs thrum through my body. Her uncontrollable sobs intensify, and the need to calm her dislodges the three little words I’ve been longing to say to her. It’s time Fallyn hears how I really feel. I have to reach her.
Grabbing her head between my hands, subduing her movement, I speak to her, “I pick you, Vixen. I’ll pick you again and again and over again. I’ll continue pickin’ you forever, Fallyn.”
A show of recognition crosses her delicate features. I watch her gaze dart from my chest to my passionate stare, then back again. The twitch in her eye causes her to close them, and her choppy breathing quiets further.
“Ya hearin’ me, baby? I need you to hear me,” I plead, rubbing my thumb across her cheek and lips. Her hazel orbs open up and lock onto mine.
“I love you, Fallyn,” I whisper, moving closer to her lips. “I love you.”
“I know, Ollie,” Fallyn responds, taking in a deep breath.
I’m stunned at first until the upturned lines surface around Fallyn’s mouth. Her attention zeroes in on me. Everything around us fades away. There she is.
“You do, do ya?”
I playfully bite at her swollen lips, leaving an openmouthed sloppy kiss in the wake of my jesting.
“Yes,” she says, her appearance no longer sorrowful. Fallyn’s with me.
“Yeah, okay,” I chuckle. “And you don’t have to answer right now. I just needed you to know. I love you, Fallyn,” I chime again.
The words on my mouth taste right, feel right. The feelings sprouting from my heart reaching out to her.
“I…I love you, too, cowboy. I love you, Oliver Bishop,” Fallyn declares and winces as she grabs my head in her dainty hold.
She faintly tugs her mouth to mine, and I move gently so as not to cause her pain. My body ignites. The flames licking up my neck and down my spine have me slowing down because of where we are.
“Thank you, Fallyn,” I sigh, stopping the kiss, and whisper against her ear.
“Miss Blackwood…ahem. Excuse me, Oliver,” a deep baritone voice interrupts our moment.
Glancing up, I see Agen
t Santiago with the FBI is standing a few feet away from our position. Frosty grey is decorating his buzz-cut hair. He’s the same agent we’ve worked with over the years. The same man who assisted us in taking down the Phantom Prophets and Desmond Payne.
I know why he’s here.
“Right now?” I ask the agent, impatience vibrating in my low tone.
“Yes, sir. I need to speak with her,” he comments as he focuses back on Fallyn. “Miss Blackwood, I’d like you to come over there with me.” He points to the awaiting ambulance parked at the tree line where the only access road leads to the riverbank. “We need to have those wounds checked, and I have a few questions for you.”
“Fallyn, call me Fallyn, please. And what if I don’t want to come with you?” she asks then turns back to me. “Ollie, I don’t want to leave you. I can’t leave you. Please.” Fallyn’s voice is no longer broken but shows a hint of panic. She could break again at the drop of a hat.
Her grip around my neck tightens. The pain clings to her twitching body, and she can no longer hide the discomfort in her eyes from Roman’s brutality. It registers that this is costing her.
“Shh, baby. I’m not leaving you. I’ll go with you,” I comfort her, caressing her hair with my large fingers.
Fallyn’s face softens, and she slightly nods in agreement. Carefully, I stand up, balancing Fallyn in my arms, and carry her to the van. I hug Fallyn close, making sure she doesn’t fall from my grip. Assuring myself and her that I’ll catch her. Keep her safe. I always will.
The paramedic inspects Fallyn from head to toe. She suffers several bruised ribs and a deep gash across her brow that requires five stitches.
The cruel treatment inflicted upon Fallyn creates a heated fury inside of me. I want to kill Roman Cabricci all over again from the injuries he inflicted upon her.
Fallyn becomes preoccupied by a conversation with Agent Santiago. I extract a word here or there. Overall, he is going to take the heat for taking down and killing Roman Cabricci. If Fallyn and Harper are ever to be free from the family, this is what needs to happen. Santiago is marking himself. Signing his own death warrant for a stranger. I’m grateful. Because it’s the only way.
